


the beats of your heart are in time

by Ellinor



Category: Wizard101
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Game Mechanics, Music, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 22:05:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12921183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellinor/pseuds/Ellinor
Summary: Music is all around you in the Spiral.It’s everywhere.





	the beats of your heart are in time

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I’m save-the-spiral on tumblr, still cross-posting more writing! This short fic was inspired by the in game music!!

Music is embedded into the worlds of the Spiral, as anyone with the ability to can hear. Many say it was the mages of old who caused this, others say it was the work of the great elder beings that still hide in the folds of Fate’s woven cloth. 

Whoever did it doesn’t really matter. They were very clever in allowing the music to change. From world to world, situation to situation, music is a part of every living creature in the Spiral, and it can even influence sentient beings.

The ancient beats will thrum through a wizard’s veins like the sweetest and most addictive of drugs, they will be spurred on to battle. In these songs they will hear why they fight. 

The wizard will smile at night, resting under the stars that paint across the sky into constellations of stories, and the music calms into a docile and loving pulse, and they will be lulled into sleep with the soft grin of someone who has faced much less hardship that someone like them. Someone with far too many scars.

This is why the legendary, epic beasts of the past that wizards can call upon with a seemingly simple card cannot be summoned in a place of peace. The quiet, calming song will serenade a wizard’s soul to peace, and they cannot bring themself to even think of touching a deck of dangerous spells.

In places of battle, however, the drums of war will crash over them like waves of molten rage, of sorrow and grief and love and everything strong and worth living for. Worth fighting and winning for. 

When a young wizard wakes, their body blanketed in a cold sweat, frantic tears running down their cheeks, they will know that they can no longer hear songs of peace. Their soul, their magic, is too jaded to be soothed into peace, the sharp edges cutting them when they thrash in the confines of unconsciousness.

They only feel the thrumming adrenaline caused by those ancient beats now, their own heart beating in time.

It’s- well let’s just say it is certainly not easy to live with this kind of demented music haunting and making a concert hall out of a wizard’s skull. Many cannot take such a burden for very long, cannot continue living such a life.

The sudden scratch of a record stopped is always an unpleasant sound.


End file.
